se with a
few swift slashes of his keen hunting knife.

"I knew you would come! I knew it!" exclaimed Paul joyously and wildly, as
he stood forth free. "Nobody in the world but you could have done it,
Henry!"

"I don't know about that, Paul," said Henry, "but I'd have had you back
sooner if it hadn't been for the dark. I followed you all night the best
way I could, but I couldn't come up to you until day, and they began work
then."

He glanced significantly at the leaves and brushwood, and then, handing
Paul's rifle to him, looked at those belonging to the savages.

"We'll take 'em," he said. "It's likely we'll need 'em, and their powder
and bullets will be more than welcome, too."

Paul was rubbing his wrists and ankles, where the blood flowed painfully
as the circulation was restored, but to him the whole affair was ended.
His life had been saved at the last moment, and the world was more
brilliant and beautiful than ever. His imagination went quickly to the
other extreme. There was no more danger.

But Henry Ware did not lose his eager, wary look. It did not take him more
than a minute to transfer the ammunition of the warriors to the pouches
and powder-horns of Paul and himself. Then he searched the forest with
keen, suspicious glances.

"Come, Paul," he said, "we must run. The woods are full of the savages.
I've found out that there's a great war party between us and Marlowe, and
I've hid the powder in a cave. I turned the horses loose, hoping that
we'll get 'em some time later; but just now you and I have to save
ourselves."

Paul came back to earth. Danger still threatened! But he was free for the
time, and he was with his comrade!

"You lead the way, Henry," he said. "I'll follow, and do whatever you
say."

Henry Ware made no reply, but bent his ear again, in the attitude of one
who listens. Paul watched his face attentively, seeking to read his
knowledge there.

"The big war band is not far away," said Henry, "and it's likely that
they've heard my shot. It would carry far on such a still, clear morning
as this. I didn't want them to hear it."

"But I'm glad you did shoot," said Paul. "It was a mighty welcome sound to
me."

"Yes," said Henry, with grim humor, "it was the right thing at the right
time. Hark to that!" A single note, very faint and very far, rose and was
quickly gone, like the dying echo of music. Only the trained ranger of the
wilderness would have noticed it at all, but Henry Wa